Tales from the Manor
by Shana Hager
Summary: When a stranded young woman stumbles upon a gloomy manor, its kindly owner takes her in and entertains her with some spooky, scary stories. Not for the fainthearted! Rated M to be safe; may decrease to a T.
1. Exposition: Stranded

**Exposition: Stranded**

 **Hi, all, and welcome to my second Halloween story. Are you ready for some thrills and chills?**

 _I listened in disbelief as my vehicle coughed, gave a great shudder and died. Great. Just great! Out of gas in the dead of night on this dark, dreary, twisted road—how could my luck get any worse? Oh, right—there isn't a gas station around for miles, and my cell phone has no service!_

 _Frustrated, I beat my steering wheel until my knuckles were bleeding and then ran my fingers through my hair. What am I gonna do? How am I gonna get home now? Who's gonna find me? Will anyone care?_

 _A full moon revealed itself from behind a cloud, the bare, gnarled branches of the woods in stark relief against it. Silvery moonlight revealed a twisting, dirt pathway which led to—what? I didn't know. Only one way to find out…_

 _I gathered my things, got out of my car and cautiously made my way down the pathway, my phone's built-in flashlight my only source of light. My arms brushed against weeds, branches, and coarse shrubbery—my sneaker-clad feet stepped on brittle twigs. There was no sound except for the distant hooting of owls, the shrieks of bats and the caws of ravens—and my heartbeat._

 _Further down this winding road, I came upon the largest, gloomiest manor I'd ever seen in my life. Hazy smoke drifted from its chimney. Loose shingles dangled from the roof. Its exterior was run-down by mold, mildew and grime. Its windowpanes were cracked and stained and caked with dirt. And the iron gate that was supposed to be guarding it was badly rusted._

 _The path before me turned to cobblestone. I reached the gate and pushed against it, it's hinges screaming in protest as I pried it open. Down the cobblestone pathway I treaded, up the crumbling steps, pausing at the imposing double doors which were surprisingly intact._

 _I wandered over to the front porch, peeking through one of the windows. Darkness._

 _Wait._

 _What was that?_

 _I held still, holding my breath. From within the manor was the echoing sound of a pipe organ, playing a haunting melody._

 _Someone was in there. But who? Who would want to live in an old, gloomy manor?_

 _Gingerly, I knocked on the door. "Hello?"_

 _No answer._

 _I tried again. "Hello?"_

 _Still nothing._

 _Then, the door creaked open. My senses on high-alert, I creeped inside._

 _I studied everything, from the worn carpet beneath me to the peeling walls and fading portraits. Deeper I ventured, until I arrived at what I could assume was the living room._

 _The organ music stopped. And then I heard a man's voice, low, soft, gentle, European accent._

 _"Hello, Anabelle. I was expecting you."_

 _Flickering firelight replaced the dimness as I stepped into the living room, finding myself face-to-face with the speaker. I was surprised to see that he was tall, relatively young and handsome. His bright, blue eyes were locked on mine, and below his moustache, a smile lingered on his lips. A light green cap with a "L" on it concealed his mocha-colored hair, save for a few bangs along the back of his neck. He wore a shirt the color of his cap, along with navy coveralls, brown boots with a high shine and white gloves._

 _I stared at him. "You—you know me?" I asked in bewilderment._

 _"Yes," he simply replied. "I knew you were coming."_

 _"My car broke down," I explained. "I'm sorry to barge in like this, but—I need a place to stay for the night, and…"_

 _"Don't worry. I've already taken care of everything. The towing service will be here in the morning," beamed the man._

 _"How did you…?" I was stunned. Not only did this guy know my name, he also knew that I was stranded and had already called someone to fix up my car._

 _"Would you like something to drink, Anabelle? Coffee, tea—or perhaps something stronger?"_

 _"A little wine will do, thanks," I said slowly._

 _"By the way—my name's Luigi."_

 _I smiled a bit. "Nice to meet you, Luigi."_

 _The cork popped, and the wine flowed._

 _"Uh—how did you come about living here, if you don't mind my asking?" I queried._

 _"Well—that's an interesting story," said Luigi, offering one of the wine glasses he held. "I won this mansion—in a contest I didn't even enter."_

 _"They offered this in a contest?" I laughed._

 _"The picture they showed me was of a palatial sort, not this. Boy was I in for the surprise of my life." Luigi sat across from me as he spoke. "I was still curious, so I decided to explore this creepy place. Then, I found out that it was already inhabited—by ghosts."_

 _"Ghosts?"_

 _"I_ hated _ghosts—they made my blood go to ice. But then, I met a paranormal researcher, Elvin Gadd. But most people call him E. Gadd. He took me in, armed me, and sent me out to capture the ghosts."_

 _"What exactly did he arm you with?"_

 _"The Poltergust 3000. It essentially vacuumed up the ghosts after I stunned them. So, I captured ghosts for a while, and then a received a phone call telling me that my elder brother was missing."_

 _"Oh, no!" I gasped._

 _"I'd called him earlier, telling him to meet me at my new mansion. He hadn't called me back. I started to get worried. But then—I found him…" He closed his eyes. "Trapped in a painting, in the clutches of the King of All Boos."_

 _"Boos? You mean those white things I saw when I was walking up here?"_

 _Luigi nodded. "My heart just stopped. It tore me apart, seeing him like that. I knew I had to rescue him. I was afraid, but I had to face my fears."_

 _He picked up a photo and handed it to me. It showed him next to a shorter, squatter man in red, same blue eyes, same dark hair. Slightly bushier moustache and a red cap with an "M" on it._

 _"My God. I've heard of him. That's—Mario, right?"_

 _"Yes," said Luigi, looking a little surprised._

 _"Did you save him? Was he hurt?"_

 _"Not that badly," Luigi assured me. "I made sure of that. After I captured the ghosts and the Boos, I confronted their King. There he was, smirking at Mario as he uselessly beat the walls of his prison. And he started taunting me about how easily I fell for the ruse of winning a free mansion, how Mario and I were fed 'gullible soup' and about a whole bunch of other stuff. As he went on and on, I felt this heat build inside, shielding me from the fright. Nobody lays hands on my bro. Nobody."_

 _"You're a good man, Luigi," I smiled._

 _"He got into this suit, warped me onto the roof, and attacked. I grabbed my Poltergust and fought back. He'd throw these huge spiked balls at me, but I'd suck them up and launch them back at him and knock him out of his suit, and try to suck him back up. He'd also breathe fire and suck me into his jaws—you see, the suit he was in bore resemblance to a reptile."_

 _"But you beat him, right?"_

 _"The battle took a lot out of me, but I did. The excitement had caused Mario to fall asleep. Or maybe he fainted with exhaustion or relief. I took his portrait to E. Gadd's lab, and he reversed the effects of whatever the Boos did. And then my bro was in front of me, dizzy and shaken but safe." He choked up a bit. "I laughed. And then I cried. And when Mario got his bearings, he started laughing and crying, too. I tackled him and we just hugged and hugged, crying in each other's arms. I'd done it. I overcame my fear of ghosts to rescue my bro. I love him so much, and nothing—nobody—will keep me from getting to him when he needs me."_

 _"I wish I had a sibling so I could experience that feeling," I said honestly._

 _"How about you, Anabelle? What's your story?"_

 _"Uhh—there's not much to tell. I'm from Fairfield, I'm a senior at UC Davis and I'm majoring in Biological Sciences. I wanna be a pediatrician when I grow up."_

 _"How did you wind up here?"_

 _"I'm on my way back to Davis after visiting my folks," I explained. "Must've gotten lost."_

 _"Don't worry, Anabelle. Everything will fall into place before morning. I'm sure you'll find your way."_

 _I leaned back against my chair and took a sip of wine, relaxing._

 _"In the meantime, though," said Luigi, "let's enjoy each other's company. What if I told you a few—spooky stories—to pass the time?"_

 _"Sure. I love scary stories. I don't necessarily believe in ghosts, but still."_

 _"Okeydokey," said Luigi. "My first story is about a little boy named Kirby…"_

 **Please review.**


	2. Attack of the Pink Puff

**Attack of the Pink Puff**

 **TW: Graphic descriptions of people being eaten alive. Also the scene where the symbiote latches onto its host may sound like a...well, you'll see...**

"Hey, there he is. The boy who wears pink."

Kirby Starr sighed to himself as the gang approached him. This had been going on ever since he set foot in this school. They were the resident toughs who had to prove just how manly they were to everyone. And to them, wearing pink wasn't manly.

Life was anything but easy for Kirby. He'd always been such a naïve child, bubbly and playful and open and optimistic, even when faced with the harsh realities of life. Unfortunately, this naivete worldview made him a sitting target for those who enjoyed picking on people. They went after him for his un-masculine behavior, such as favoring "soft" colors like pink. They mocked him for his curiously high-pitched voice and for his voracious appetite. Kirby tried to ignore them, but nobody got the message. Especially the boys confronting him now.

"How's it going, Kirby?" snickered Duncan, the ringleader. "On your way to play with Barbie dolls and host a tea party?"

Kirby fired Duncan a dirty look, but otherwise didn't reply.

"I'm sorry—I thought I asked you a question," Duncan persisted.

His victim walked faster, but his speed was no match for the other boys'. Two of them, David and Darren, grabbed him and dragged him before Duncan.

"When someone asks a question, they are thoroughly expected to be answered," Duncan said in a clipped voice.

"I don't know, man—maybe he didn't hear you," said David.

"Maybe you're right," shrugged Duncan. "Guess we have to change that."

Kirby struggled against the boys who held him, to no avail. He knew what Duncan had planned for him.

"Let's try this again," grinned Duncan before balling his fist and shooting it into Kirby's face.

"Are? You? Going? To? Play? With? Your? Barbie? Dolls?" he asked, emphasizing each word with a vicious punch.

Kirby responded with a steely glare. "Go to Hell," he spat.

There was subdued silence.

"My, my, my—a lot of spirit you've got there," said Duncan. "I like that."

"I didn't do anything to you," Kirby said bravely. "Now back off."

Duncan blinked. "I'm sorry—did you just tell me what to do?"

"I believe I just did," snapped Kirby. "You push people like me around to act like a man—but you're no man. A real man doesn't pick on people for being different. A real man is caring and compassionate. You're nothing but a soulless monster!"

Duncan stood there, gaping, stunned that his favorite toy had just turned on him. But shock quickly turned to anger.

"So—you think I'm a monster?" he asked, not even raising his voice. "Okay. Let's show you how a monster treats a smarty-mouth."

He signaled to Darren and David, who forced Kirby to the ground. Before he could call for help, a heavy kick met his side.

Passersby were attracted by the commotion and started running over, but Duncan whirled toward them. "Any of this winds up on YouTube, and you're all dead meat! Understand?" And they all knew that this was no idle threat.

The three bullies gathered around Kirby, making sure everyone could see. Then, they pelted him with kicks. They kicked him over and over and over, and when they were done with that, they yanked him up and used him as a punching bag. Even the babies, dogs and cats were made to watch. They knew what would happen if they tried to intercede on poor Kirby's behalf.

At long last, it was over. Duncan and his friends dumped Kirby onto the ground and kicked him one last time. "Next time you'd better think about how you address me, you freak," warned Duncan before the three walked off as if it was an ordinary day and they didn't have a care in the world.

Kirby got up and limped home. He felt nothing, even when he pushed through the door of his house, even when his mother raced to his side, even as ice and ointment treated his wounds. He'd stopped feeling it a long time ago. It was the only way to cope, to stop feeling it, to stop reacting to it. To not give Duncan and his gang any stimulus to feed upon. It was as if they'd cut his heart out and eaten it. In small bites.

Later, Kirby was in his room, working on a set of drawings. In them, he was the hero of an imaginary burg he called Dreamland, populated with idyllic, gentle citizens and where it was always cheerful. The downside was that they were ruled by a tyrannical monarch who regularly took things without their permission. So, Kirby traveled to his castle to fight him to get everyone's things back.

The hero was drawn as a perfectly round, pink ball with bean-shaped blue eyes, a small, round "o" for a mouth, blushing cheeks, stubby arms and red shoes. He used a craft called a "Warp Star" to transport from one world to the other. He got past enemies by inhaling them and spitting them at other enemies, or by swallowing them whole. By inhaling air and flapping his arms, this hero attained the ability to fly.

As for the villain, he was drawn as a blue, bloated penguin, wearing a knit cap, a velvet robe and a shirt and vest. Kirby named this tyrant DDD, after his three tormentors. DDD was armed with a hammer, which he used to attack the hero during their fight. The hammer strikes produced stars, which the hero sucked up and spat at the villain. After DDD was defeated, the hero would literally lift the castle off the ground and turn into a hot air balloon to float it back to Dreamland, where its grateful citizens would purge it for their stolen property.

Kirby labored at his drawings, not allowing himself to think, until his eyelids grew heavy. Finally, he put his materials away, flopped onto his bed and fell asleep.

* * *

It was bright and starry outside, with a full moon. Something that appeared to be a shooting star streaked through the night. But this was no shooting star. The object grew bigger and bigger and bigger, until it landed with a dull _plop_ on the front lawn of Kirby's house. It wasn't loud enough to wake him.

The object was a fair-sized white capsule, cracked in two from the impact with the earth. A pink substance oozed from the capsule and began to slink toward the house, hidden among the long blades of grass. It saw its new environment in mainly purple and violet, but he could sense the emotions of one of the house's inhabitants. The boy in the upstairs bedroom would be the perfect host.

This pink symbiote entered the house through the crack under the front door, eased its way across the den and sprouted gooey tendrils to pull itself up the stairs. Then, it crept into Kirby's room, where it paused, resting, watching the sleeping boy.

A light frown was on Kirby's face, sweat standing out on his forehead. He was having a nightmare about the three D's. His anguish and hidden rage supplied much-needed nutrients to the symbiote for survival. It concealed itself as Kirby jerked awake briefly, and then fell back asleep.

Then, the symbiote crossed the room and climbed up Kirby's bedsheets, where it loomed over the sleeping figure, shaking his head as another nightmare trapped him. He began gasping and thrashing violently, which only fed the symbiote's hunger.

It latched onto Kirby's hand, the vine-like tendrils wrapping around it and traveling up to the arm and shoulder.

It began multiplying on Kirby's body.

It was reproducing at a miraculous rate, feasting ravenously on Kirby's negative emotions. Its movement was unhindered by Kirby clutching at his bedsheets and moaning.

The sticky, spidery tendrils caressed Kirby's body as the symbiote crawled all over him, fusing with his skin. It had completely covered both arms and was now traveling downward. Slithering down his chest and stomach and hips, gleefully coating the trunk and midsection, where the emotions seemed to emanate the most. Continuing to his thighs, his calves, his feet, his toes, and then his back and his butt. It took a little extra time when it reached his groin, as it had never seen such an—organ—in its home planet.

With most of Kirby's body now covered in the pink symbiote, it now grabbed its way up the neck and face, sliding between Kirby's lips and into his nostrils and over Kirby's eyelids as he jolted awake to the feeling of something cold and gooey crawling in his mouth and down his throat and up his nose, the sticky feeling on the rest of him as his vision became tinted with pink, and then—and then—the symbiote took Kirby, assimilated with Kirby…

Became Kirby.

* * *

"Poyo?"

A rotund, rosaceous creature with bean-shaped eyes, an "o"-shaped mouth, stubby arms, blushing cheeks and red shoes stood there, staring at his reflection in the glass window of a building. He had no idea where he was and how he got here. One moment, he'd been a boy sleeping in his bed. Now, he was—what the heck was he, anyway?

"Poyo." He examined his new appendages and feet and then felt his face. The pink skin was cool, soft and moist. When he moved to step forward, he nearly lost his balance. In this form, he was now reduced to toddling.

He toddled this way and that before deciding to try something out. He took a deep breath and jumped, shocked when he found himself floating in the air. Instinctively, he began flapping his arms, filling his body with more air. He was flying! He was actually flying and round and—and—

That's when it occurred to him. He looked exactly like the hero from his drawings! From the eyes to the mouth to the cheeks to the arms and feet. A smile broke out on his face (body?), and he waved his appendages, dancing with joy.

Wow! This felt—great!

Kirby opened his mouth wide and took a giant inhale, a great vortex of air sucking into his lungs. Such was the suction that a nearby tree uprooted and flew straight into the creature's giant maw. He swallowed it without so much as a burp. "Poyo!" he giggled.

This was something else!

* * *

Duncan was still awake, playing video games in his room. He was still steaming from Kirby standing up to him this afternoon, and each moment he spent playing his game only increased his rage. Tomorrow, he and his two pals would exact the perfect revenge.

Or so they thought.

His window was open, allowing in a cool breeze. But it also allowed in something—someone—else.

So absorbed was Duncan in his M-rated game that he didn't hear the pink puffball fly into his room. He didn't hear him softly alight on the carpet behind him. Kirby stood there, in his new form, watching Duncan play his gory video games, feeling the pain and rage build up in his core. Yet on his face was a calm, innocent expression.

"Poyo," he said, getting Duncan's attention.

Duncan whirled and stared goggle-eyed at the strange pink creature, staring at him with his bean-shaped eyes and smiling playfully at him.

"What the…?"

"Hii!" Kirby broke in, puffing himself out and waving his arms at Duncan.

"Oh—hi, little guy," cooed Duncan, getting over his shock. "Where did you come from?"

Kirby tottered closer to him. "Poyo," he said.

"Are you lost? Do you need to find your parents?" asked Duncan, reaching out to pet the creature.

In a heartbeat, a dark, menacing look came to the fluffball's eyes. "Poyo, poyo," he snarled.

Before Duncan knew what was happening, Kirby opened his mouth and sucked with all his might. Everything in the room began flying into that cavernous maw. Picture frames. Dressers. Smelly socks and clothes. Shoes. His gaming consoles. It all wound up in Kirby's gullet. Along with Duncan himself.

Duncan screamed as the strong vortex lifted him off the ground and pulled him inside Kirby. The last thing he saw was his own destroyed room before he was plunged into the dark cavern of Kirby's stomach. He floated there in the silent, black void, straining for a sound, for a sign. And then he got one.

But it wasn't a good sign.

 _Gurgle._

"Wh-who's there?"

 _Gurgle, gurgle._

"Hello? Is someone there? Can someone help…?"

 _GURGLE._

When Duncan noticed the smell, he knew he was screwed. "Oh, no…"

The gurgling grew louder and louder and was soon accompanied by the sounds of rushing and sloshing. Kirby's gastric juices sprang into action, quickly surrounding Duncan. Slowly, tortuously, they began to digest the bully. First his feet. Then his legs. Then his pelvis. Then his hips. Then his torso. Then his hands and arms. Duncan could only scream and scream as a burning sensation consumed him. The flesh was literally liquefying from his bones. Desperately, he clawed at the walls around him, screaming, but nobody could hear his cries.

His screams faded as the stomach acid continued tearing away at his body, reducing the now-stripped bones to powder. The fluid was now at his chest and still rising. Duncan sobbed hysterically. This was it. He was being eaten alive by a pink creature.

 _God have mercy on my soul_ , he thought.

Then, he could no longer think as the gastric juices dissolved his neck and face, and the last thing he heard was the ominous gurgling and sloshing in his ear.

* * *

Darren was fast asleep when he awoke to a pink ball of fluff curled up on his chest, staring curiously at him.

Yelping, Darren jumped out of bed. "How did you get in here?" he demanded.

Kirby pointed at the open window. "Poyo, poyo poyoyo," he said.

"Well, you're the strangest bird I've ever seen," laughed Darren.

"Poyo? Poyoyo poy popoyo poyo."

"Look, buddy—I know you're cute, but I just don't understand a word you're saying."

"Poyo poy?" Kirby thrust a picture forward. It was him in his previous form.

It took a minute, but Darren soon put two and two together. Slowly, he began to back away. "Look, you little…"

Kirby opened up and let her rip.

Darren's head wound up in Kirby's maw first. His nails scratched at Kirby's face in a failed bid to pull his head free, but it only made Kirby suck harder. As Kirby sucked and Darren struggled, there was a horrible ripping sound as the bully's head was ripped clear from his body. Blood sprayed and splattered all over the room.

Kirby swallowed the head, licked his lips and smiled as Darren's headless corpse fell limply to the ground. He could feel power and hunger surging through his veins. He wanted more—more—more! Again, Kirby opened his mouth and sucked up the rest of Darren. Along with his material possessions. And then his room.

Only one more stop to go—

* * *

Floating through the neighborhood, he could see David heading home after staying out late. Big mistake on his part. Kirby released the air he'd stored in his cheeks, allowing himself a gentle descent to the ground.

And right in front of David.

David jumped back. "What on Earth…?"

Kirby offered no introductions. He simply opened his mouth and sucked David in, relishing in his muffled cries as he struggled inside his gullet. Eventually, he felt his stomach rumble and smiled at the sensation of his digestive juices doing their work. First, shredding the skin and muscles from David's bones, one limb at a time, before digesting the bones. He giggled in triumph when the bully's screams finally ceased. At long last, _he_ was the powerful one.

 _Yes. I shall consume. Consume. Consume everything—_

* * *

That night, the city was awakened by a terror beyond their most grotesque nightmares. Families screamed as high-pressure suction tore houses apart and sent them hurtling to their doom. Grass and trees were ripped from the ground. Skyscrapers were torn from their very foundations. Clubgoers found themselves whisked off their feet and into the blackened void, along with their nightclub of choice. They screamed and prayed and floundered in the viscous bath, flesh, muscle and bones turning into mush. Cars and trucks were pulled off roads and highways, followed by chunks of the roads and highways themselves.

Not even his own mother was safe. During his rampage, Kirby came across his house. It reminded him of his old life as a helpless weakling. So he destroyed that reminder, ripping the entire house free and ingesting it. Ingesting the mother who doted on him and tended to his wounds but otherwise did nothing to alleviate his pain.

Kirby trundled through the city, sucking up and consuming everything in sight. Parks. Creeks. Lakes. Rivers. Supermarkets. Department stores. Restaurants. They were all torn to shreds and hurtled into Kirby's bottomless gut.

The military was mobilized to combat this threat, but military might was no match for Kirby's suction. Their equipment was inside him in seconds. Same with everyone in the police department and the courthouses. Finally, he scarfed down City Hall in one gulp.

And so, the symbiote turned Kirby, once an innocent child, into an unstoppable eating machine. His appetite grew and grew and grew, and as his appetite grew, so did his size. He stomped from city to city, eating everything and everyone. It wasn't long before he swallowed the entire state, and the state next to that one, and the state next to that one—until he finally swallowed the whole country!

Panic erupted in the remaining countries as Kirby drained the Atlantic Ocean and crossed into Europe, devouring England, and then Spain, and then Portugal, and then Germany and Italy and finally everyone else. He sucked up Russia and Ukraine. Africa, Asia, Australia, even Antarctica (which gave him brainfreeze) for a while. Finally, the Pacific Ocean, South America, Canada and Greenland became Kirby's meal. Kirby had consumed the entire world.

But he wasn't done yet. Ohh—he wasn't done yet. Kirby continued to consume and consume and consume. He consumed the other planets. He consumed galaxies. He consumed space and time itself.

He—he—

 _Oh, my God—it's Kirby! Please, don't eat me! NOOOOOO!_

"Hii!"

* * *

 _"My," I said, taking another sip of wine. "That's one Hell of a way to go—being eaten alive."_

 _"Indeed," said Luigi, "but I know a scarier way to go."_

 _"What's that?" I asked, allowing him to refill my wine glass._

 _Luigi grinned. "How about having a monster latch onto your face and eat it?"_

 _I shuddered._

 _"This next story," Luigi began, "is about a scientist who we'll call—Samus."_

 **Please read and review.**


End file.
